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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23904676">a place to start</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactuslesbian/pseuds/cactuslesbian'>cactuslesbian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Two Birds On A Wire [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Character Study, F/F, discord chat got outa control lads, jude is literally 'i wrote her a note that said get out of my school'</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:15:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23904676</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactuslesbian/pseuds/cactuslesbian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>jude perry knows exactly what she is; a monster.</p><p>or the pj&amp;o au that no one asked for but happened bc my discord group went ape shit. Anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Agnes Montague/Jude Perry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Two Birds On A Wire [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a place to start</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Jude's been at camp since she was seven. Before that it was a string of less than fruitful foster and group home situations.</p><p>tw: for bullying and implied child abuse/neglect</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jude glowers at the other little girl, <em>Agnes</em>, they’d said her name was. </p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t like her already.</p><p> </p><p>Jude’s first thought is that Agnes looks like one of the dolls that her last foster mom had on a high shelf; small and fragile and pale with a splash of freckles and auburn hair neatly arranged in two tight pigtails, little satin bows at the ends. Jude still remembers and relishes the sound the dolls had made when they’d hit the hardwood floor face first and shattered. The way the foster mother had cried.</p><p> </p><p>She’s a problem child. That’s what her caseworker had said in a hushed voice that she very obviously wasn’t meant to hear. But Jude is smart; she knows exactly what she is and she doesn’t mind it. She kind of likes it, actually. Collects the names and terms like little badges of honor. </p><p> </p><p>Freak, Abomination, Flawed, Monster (<em>that's always a good one, maybe her favorite one,</em>), Unnatural, Wrong, Broken, Terrible.</p><p> </p><p>Even at this camp, a place full of other little freaks such as herself, she’s unique. Not just because most of the kids are several years her senior, including the kids in her cabin. Jude <em>burns</em>. </p><p> </p><p>It was one of her half siblings who tried to give her the gloves. Smooth, metallic gloves that were cool to the touch and the older girl had promised with a smile that as long as she wore them, she couldn’t burn people even on accident. She'd been careful to add that she'd heard the burning was hard to control and never really stopped, and that if Jude needed anything, the girl would be around to help. Jude had returned the smile with one of her own, before locking her hand around the older camper's wrist until the skin sizzled and she'd screamed and screamed. Two satyrs had needed to pull the older girl away but didn’t dare touch <em>her</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Good. They needed to learn one way or another exactly what Jude Perry was.</p><p> </p><p>But Agnes, to Jude’s dismay, is close to her in age, about eight. So even though neither of them are in the same cabin, they end up together more often than not. Especially considering how little the other kids want anything to do with her, even if they have nothing against Agnes. The older kids, the satyrs, even Chiron watch with wary eyes as Jude Perry and Agness Montegue walk together from place to place. They’re convinced it’s a matter of time before Jude eventually hurts her.</p><p> </p><p>Agnes doesn’t speak unless spoken too, and will only ever say her own name in this soft and gentle little voice that makes Jude want to shake her until she cries, burn her maybe.  </p><p> </p><p>Jude makes a game of it. Of seeing if she can make Agnes react to her without <em>burning</em>. She’ll ruin her crafts, trip her at meal times, call her every awful name she can think of. But Agnes will simply twirl her braid with a finger and blink owlishly back at her. And the cycle begins anew.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a day where Agnes walks into one of the bathrooms and finds Jude hacking at her hair with a borrowed knife, leaving the strands to fall to the ground and in the sink in clumps. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you want help?” Agnes’ asks in that same damned voice. She’s standing maybe a foot away, head tilted, fingers twisting around her braid, “I can help,”</p><p> </p><p>Jude isn’t sure why this is the last straw, but it<em> is</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The knife and her hair go forgotten for a moment as she closes the space between her and Agnes, grabs one of her pigtails and pulls. </p><p> </p><p>“Why won’t you take a hint?” She grinds out through gritted teeth. Jude hasn’t even considered how unhinged she must look, hair an uneven mess, missing tooth, fury and heat radiating off of her in waves. “Why won’t you leave me alone?! I don’t need you! I don’t!”</p><p> </p><p>Agnes isn’t like the dolls up on the shelves. She doesn’t shatter. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t even yell. Instead, her little fingers wrap around Jude’s wrist, and even more remarkably than that, she doesn’t burn. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re hurting me, Jude.” Agnes' eyes are shut tight, but she simply sounds as though she’s stating a fact. Like she’s talking about the weather.</p><p> </p><p>Jude lets go and steps back. She keeps expecting screams, crying, that familiar burned skin smell, but nothing like that happens. Instead, Agnes simply ties the ribbon back onto her now slightly messier braid. Jude can’t even smell burning hair.</p><p> </p><p>“...how?” is all Jude can think to ask. And Agnes simply shrugs. It’s an answer Jude will accept, she herself doesn’t know why she is the way she is. “Did you know I wouldn’t burn you?” This time Agnes shakes her head.</p><p> </p><p>Jude doesn’t know why that is the answer that makes her face feel warm, makes her throat feel tight like she’s going to cry. But Jude hasn’t cried since she was seven years old and met That Man. When she’d thrown things, and burned, and screamed and cried and asked Him why she had to be made (she had never asked to be made). And the Man had simply shaken his head sadly, said something stupid about not being able to foresee such a thing as her, and took her to camp.</p><p> </p><p>“Here, the back is uneven,” Agnes informs softly. She takes the knife from the edge of the sink and begins to carefully trim. Jude doesn’t even flinch when the knife is near her head, when the other girl carefully tugs at her hair to cut it. There’s an instinctive understanding there that Agnes will not hurt her, even though she can. </p><p> </p><p>It's terrifying, she thinks, being vulnerable. New in a way she's never even thought about. She's always defaulted to anger. That sweet, searing anger. Anger is something she was good at. Jude likes to think that she'd been born with that white-hot rage coursing through her blood along with the fire. Fear is new. Vulnerability is new. But Agnes is gentle with her, even as she holds a knife easily the size of her forearm right by her throat. Jude watches that freckled face furrow in concentration as she continues to trim and she feels her defenses crumble, if only even a little.</p><p> </p><p>Jude and Agnes walk out hand in hand and are rarely seen apart after that.</p>
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